


Easter Morning, Winchester Style

by jublke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Easter, Easter Bunny, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Teenchester, Weechester, brotherly schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jublke/pseuds/jublke
Summary: Eleven-year-old Sam learns a hard lesson when Dean is injured right before Easter.





	Easter Morning, Winchester Style

**Author's Note:**

> None of this belongs to me. My thanks to my husband for giving this a once-over and telling me he was completely confused. Hopefully, this makes more sense now. Any remaining errors are mine. 
> 
> Cross-posted at Fanfiction.net.

There’s a scratching noise and in his dream-addled state, Sam is convinced that a spirit has broken into the motel room, undeterred by the salt lines. When he slits his eyes open, squinting against the sunlight coming in through great gaps in the blinds, he only finds his father. The man is sitting alone at the tiny kitchen table, bleary-eyed. He’s sliding a bottle of Jack Daniels - _scritch, scratch_ \- back and forth across the Formica, almost as if he’s in a trance.

“Dad?” Sam tries, still coming to his senses. He scans the corners of the motel room, eyes seeking colorful treats. “Did the Easter Bunny come last night?”

His father gives him an odd look and shakes his head. “You’re too old for that shit, Sam.”

“But Dean said -“ He breaks off when his father flinches at the mention of his brother’s name. Sam feels his heart rate increase - the casual _lub-dub_ chugging right into _wham-slam_ territory. His eyes flit about the room. “Where’s Dean?”

His father stops twitching long enough to point the tip of the bottle at a lump in the corner. Dean is lying so still, wrapped in a hideous stained tan bedspread, that Sam had glanced right past him.

Sam fumbles his way out of a tangle of bedding and kneels beside his older brother. He can’t see any obvious signs of injury. “What’s wrong with him, Dad?” He peels up an eyelid but the teen is down for the count.

“Had to give him some of the good stuff,” his father replies. “Monster dislocated his shoulder. Needed a few stitches in the back too.” The man takes a healthy slug from the bottle.

Sam’s eyes bore into his father’s. There’s a tense set to his jaw when he asks, “How’d it happen?”

John’s eyes narrow. “He got distracted for some reason. Kid’s head wasn’t in the game. Tracking takes time. Kept going on about needing to get back before morning. Something about wanting eggs for breakfast.” The grizzled hunter twists his lips and shakes his head. “We got ‘em, though.” He lifts the bottle, tips a toast in Dean’s direction, and knocks back another gulp of whisky.

Sam blinks back the sudden wetness in his eyes. “Oh,” he says softly, wiping away a streak of dirt from his brother’s temple with his thumb. He wants to pull his brother into his arms, thank him for every Easter morning he’s ever had.

Over the lump in his throat, Sam gives the response he knows his father expects. “That’s good, Dad. I’m glad those campers are safe.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a meme I saw on Instagram, which pointed out that if Sam believed in the Easter Bunny until he was 11 1/2, Dean surely was the reason.


End file.
